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On this Saturday past, a girl who'd shown some interest in me, ages ago, asked me out.
We'd met up at a friends party and spent a little time chatting on the couch, catching up a bit. She talked about the guy she's currently dating. Apparently, the relationship wasn't what she wanted it to be and she was looking to make a change. In the natural flow of things, I talked a little bit about That Darned Frustrating Girl (who called me on Valentines Day, but hasn't been heard from since. - A week later). Part of the telling of that story involves the disclosure that I am not seeing anyone right now. And give this new girl credit for having a poker face. I didn't see any reaction to that news, at all.
Later, though, as she was entering the kitchen and I was leaving it, she paused, looked at me and said, "Hey! Would you like to go out on a date sometime?"
I think the idea just ocurred to her to ask me, right then and there.
Well, I said "Sure." And we hastily exchanged numbers in our cell, lest our friends catch us and tease us mercilessly about it. In the days before there were cell phones, she would've calmly set her wine glass down, grabbed my hand and drug me into the pantry for a hasty kiss and a little groping session. Nowadays, the cell phones do all the busy work and we see where things go from there.
So that's how I got asked out by someone on Satuday night...
Here's how I asked someone out, the following Tuesday evening...
This other girl, well, she's a handful.
I've seen her around the theater, at shows and at afterparties for a few months now. She's a naturally quiet person, by nature. So, it makes sense that she hangs around improvisers, the chattiest bunch of bastards that I ever have seen. She stands around, looking a little bored and lets them rattle on about whatever they're talking about. In between bits, the improvisers try to sneak peeks at her thinkneck or her carefully displayed rack. Or her frequently bare legs.
She's sexy as Hell. And she knows it. And she intentionally wears her sexiness as a calling card when she hangs around us.
And that is like catnip to me, Dear Friends.
A woman who is confident enough to dress up like a Catholic schoolgirl, for a party, has and maintains my attention. It's all a show. I get that. I just happen to like that particular show.
I'm also a bit scared by that sort of aggressive posturing. I've seen this girl around for months now, but I only talked to her, because she was one of three people in an otherwise empty theater. And the third person was in the bathroom. So, I introduced myself. And we established that she knew who I was and I knew who she was. And yet, we'd never spoken, until then.
I worked box office that night. Tuesday the 15th. Valentines Day. 2006. She house managed. I worked box office and we chatted the pre-show away. Nothing too heavy. Just a pleasant banter. I ended up hosting the night, as well. And chatted with her briefly after the show. I caught myself hanging around the theater to chat with her afterwards, when in the past, I would've normally just gone home. I guess I decided that I liked attention from this girl.
I saw her again on Friday night, at the Playground 2nd Anniversary party. I set up camp in the corner and proceeded to chase down and forecefully subdue a proper booze up. People kept buying cocktails for me. Sammy the bartender (who has taken to earnestly calling me "Steve". I don't have the heart to correct him) and I did shots out of a vodka bottle shaped like an AK 47. I shit you not.
Periodically, this same pretty girl would wander over to me and we would chat about things. I didn't tell her that I was casually leaning up against the photo booth machine, because if I didn't, I would fall over. In fact, niether of us mentioned it, actually.
Later, when someone played a bunch of dance music, she jumped up on the stage and shook her goodies in a solo display of her blatant sexual ability. The meaning of which, wasn't lost on any of us. When another girl joined her, they clearly advertised their mutual admiration for the female form, by pressing themselves tightly together and writhing in a rhythm that matched the song and their own, internal orgasmic abilities. I nearly spit up my cocktail, it was so hot.
And then, at the end of the night, when I was deciding which cab would take me home, I said "Goodnight" to her and watched her walk out with another guy. A friend of mine. With a reputation as a "love 'em and leave 'em" type. So maybe there's a thing there. I don't know.
The next Saturday, the same night when the other girl asked me out, I ran into this girl AGAIN!!! 3 times in a single week. This time I got a friendly hug and a pretty smile and it was clear that she was glad to see me. After the midnight show, we adjourned to our local watering hole and began drinking again. Two nights of boozing up, in a row.
This pretty girl set up camp next to me and talked about things of a more intimate nature. Somehow conversation drifted over to making out and kissing, steered there by her hand. I am purely innocent in this regard. She stopped talking and looked over at me and just smiled a devilish grin.
"What?" I asked, thinking there was a joke going on, that I wasn't in on.
"I was just thinking about kissing you right now and showing you what I meant." And then she took a long, cool drink of her cocktail to let me know that she meant business.
We eventually decided that wasn't a very good idea, being the middle of a busy bar where we both knew 80% of the people there. I asked for and was given a raincheck on that. Charming, charming, charming.
Last night, I saw her AGAIN!!! Four times in a week. Even she laughed and joked about it. But when she saw me, I got a long hug and I placed my hands in the small of her back and just enjoyed the feeling of being embraced. I went into the theater and checked in with my team and sure enough, if I sat down anywhere, she would gravitate over to me and sit somewhere around me, again. She was showing interest.
And there came to pass, a quiet moment, when everyone else was off doing something else and she and I were relatively alone.
"You know, " I said, "I'm out of town for the next four days. And I guess that means I won't get to see you, my customary 4 times a week. " She laughed at this. "So, howzabout you and I go get some dinner and cocktails, tomorrow night. Together. Alone. Just you and me."
And she laughed at me. A big, proud, happy laugh. She liked the idea. And she gave me the same sort of "sure" that I had given someone else, 3 days earlier. Again, we exchanged phone numbers and this time... I set the date. For tonight. At Leona's. The restaurant of her choice. Dinner and cocktails. And afterwards. maybe cocktails somewhere else and who knows what will happen after that?
So, yes. It's been a busy, busy week. Tonight I get dinner and Who Knows What with a pretty girl that I genuinely like. Tomorrow, I fly out of town and spend 4 days with my really wonderful improv team.
Life is very, very good right now.
Cheers,
Mr. B
Read My Comments Below to Hear How the Date Went. In a word? Not Well.
1 comment:
How was it?
In a word...terrible.
Not the worst date I've ever been on. I can remember one from high school that ended early and was particularly bad. But this was on the list of the top ten worst dates for me, ever.
Why?
Oh, let me count the ways...
1.) This girl CLEARLY was not into me.
Which begs the question of Why she ever accepted the date in the first place? Honestly, she couldn't have been more clear about her disinterest, if she wrote "I DON'T LIKE YOU." on the table napkin and stuck it on her forehead.
The evening was filled with the gigantic, awkward pauses. And they came, inevitably when I ran out of things to ask her about herself. I didn't realize until this morning that those were the times when a normal person eventually would get around to asking me something about me. If they cared to know anything about me...
2.)This girl is actively pining about a friend of mine.
And Lord, did we discuss that in graphic detail. Once the connection was made that he and I knew each other, she shared their graphic sexual history. With couplings, feelings, dialogue all re-created for me in flowery detail. And it was most definitely NOT hot, at all. It was completely devoid of any inferred "...and all of this might happen to you, Sailor Boy." Or anything like that.
She has very deep feelings for this guy. And he recently moved out of Chicago. And she is leaving town, going home, because he's gone. Or following him to his hometown. Either way, her interest isn't in Chicago anymore. It's in this guys pants, completely on the other side of the country, right now.
And so that is what we discussed at dinner and later at the Town Hall Bar.
It was clear to me, on the whole quiet walk to the bar, when niether of us were speaking, that things had gone horribly awry. I don't even know why I went there with her. It was clear that we weren't connecting. And sex was removed from the offering plate by both of us. So why not say "goodnight" and part ways?
That was what I was thinking, the whole walk to the bar.
I can't tell you what she was thinking. The only time she talked to me, was to point out a bar that she'd first made out with a friend of mine in. (A different guy than the one that we discussed over dinner.)
I got to Town Hall and it was most definitely deserted. One guy in there, a person I don't know very well. And he bought us all a round of shots and later asked me to come, right then, to his show. I politely declined, but wanted to say, "No can do, buddy. I am here watching a dinner date slowly die off."
I downed my single cocktail at the bar as quickly as I could. Three long, pulls to finish the whole thing. Because it ocurred to me that as soon as I finished that drink, I could settle the tab and get the fuck out of there. I'm a slow drinker, friends. My quickly emptied glass was a political statement.
She quietly sipped her beer and pretended to watch the tv screen. A basketball game that niether of us cared about. Whenever someone would enter or leave the bar, she would turn and look to see if it was someone else that she would rather talk to. Such a slow, careless exercise in cruelty.
If you see this girl on the street or in the theater, stop and politely ask her if she's friends with me. Ask her what I'm up to, these days. She will likely mention my team, International Stinger, she's seen us play. But then watch as the eyes glaze over and she has to reveal that she doesn't know anything else about me. Buy her a drink and she will give you a graphic description of the last dick that she sucked. Just be sure that yours won't be the next one on the list.
Ugh.
Horrible.
Also, she's 22. I thought she was 24. Which doesn't sound like much, but actually is.
I think this might be the final nail in the coffin for my dating (or sleeping with) anyone less than 26 years old. (A number I just pulled out of thin air.) These yougn girls really are the most empty, selfish, careless children that a person can legally bring into a bar. I am finding less and less evidence to the contrary.
Back to flying this ship solo. I think its better this way.
COB out...
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